


blood in her eyes for you

by rhllors



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Americana AU, F/M, Gen, Murder, Reference to Morgana/Leon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-29
Updated: 2012-08-29
Packaged: 2017-11-13 03:30:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/498972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhllors/pseuds/rhllors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur always said that she wasn't born, she was created.</p><p>For once, he's right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	blood in her eyes for you

Arthur always said that she wasn't born, she was created.

For once, he's right.

 

 

Morgana is a creature of grief and brutality and lipstick redder than blood. 

Every morning, she creates herself. You see, there is a perfect art to perfecting a femme fatale--two symmetrical flicks of eyeliner, blush cutting down the cheekbones, mascara the colour of the darkness just beyond the streetlamp's range, a summer dress an inch shorter than perceived proper (she scoffs at proper, what is a proper in a world of gangs and heartbreakers dressed like James Dean?) and, of course, that famous lick of crimson adorning her lips. Hair curled casually, toes and fingers a matching pink, feet adorned in her favourite peep toes. 

She's more rock'n'roll than Elvis and those clothes aren't just clothes, that make-up isn't hiding anything.

It's her battle armour.

 

 

Morgana wants to kill Uther.

(The thing about bad girls who pretend to be good?

They _always_ get what they want.)

 

 

Morgana's leaning against Leon's convertible. He's Arthur's best friend and a notorious smooth-talking, chain-smoking cold assed motherfucker. Love 'em and leave 'em are the words he lives by. 

He and Morgana fuck sometimes. They understand each other. Leon understands she's the runaway daughter of a nuclear bomb, about to blow his joint higher than Hiroshoma. Morgana understands that his libido is bigger than Uther's list of ex-girlfriends. 

"Hey girl," he drawls, leaning in to capture a kiss from her perfectly painted lips. She dodges it and it lands on the pale skin of her neck.

"I need fifty bucks, L." she says, her lips curling into a grin as his eyes close when her hand rests on his belt buckle. "Please?" Morgana trills, a perfect impression of that floozy her idiot of brother is goin' steady with this week.

Her hand drifts lower.

His pupils dilate. His adam's apple bobs. 

"Oo-oh, you are pleased to see me," she continues, her hand dancing over the hardness at the top of his legs. "I could help you out there, if you want."

His lip twitches. A bead of sweat rolls down his forehead.

His hand stuffs some crumpled notes into her hand. Morgana smiles, all teeth and no feeling, and slides them down the front of her summer dress.

"Thanks, darling." she simpers, before turning on her heel and walking away in a whirlwind of florals.

Leon leans back and lights a cigarette.

This isn't the first she's played him for a fool. It won't be the last either.

 

 

Leon's 50 gives her enough to buy a shotgun.

(She'd collected 250 from Gwaine, Lancelot, Percival and Cenred in the same way.)

She goes into the gunshop and talks about her daddy wantin' something for his b'day to the shop assistant. When he doesn't fall for that, Morgana slams his face so hard against the counter that his nose explodes into a fountain of blood.

Obviously, he gives her the gun for free.

 

 

Morgana ties Uther to the kitchen chair.

 _Why_ is all he asks, all he repeats over and over and over over and over again until she's gone fucking crazy because he still doesn't have a fucking clue.

"Because you're a lowlife scumbag who fucked my Mom whilst Daddy was in France. That's fucking why."

Morgana wants to paint the walls with his brains. She wants to tear open his skull. She wants to wear his teeth for earrings and leave his head on the doorstep for Arthur to find.

"Please---" he pleads. There is a acrid smell--oh my fucking god he's fucking pissed himself and Morgana is laughing because she is beautiful and terrible and every inch the daughter of Uther Pendragon, however much she wants to run away from that.

"Uther, do me favour?" Morgana asks. "Shut the fuck up."

She empties the barrel into his body. His blood matches her lipstick, his eyes are glazed with tears that will never fall. She presses a kiss against his cheek--nobody else in this town wears paint that colour--and leaves her old life behind.

 

 

Arthur always said that she wasn't made, she was created.

Isn't that true about all monsters, though?


End file.
